When I first read the story, I had little reaction — I dismissed it as obviously fake. But then it struck me that there were videos and pictures of those involved, including of now Elder Alabbas.

But even on this realization, I didn’t quite feel outrage or disapproval. Instead, I thought about how I would have reacted had this happened to me.

My first post at Mormon Matters blog (if you will recall, Wheat & Tares used to be Mormon Matters, and Mormon Matters used to be a blog, rather than a podcast, and our old posts remain almost perfectly preserved as archeological artifacts) was entitled: “Why I Almost Went on a Mission.” And without even getting into the post, you can obviously surmise that a mission is something that coiuld have happened, but which didn’t.

But I’ll go back into detail.

When I was growing up in the church, I never had a testimony. I had good behavior, and I knew the trivia that I was supposed to know, but when it came to what I believed was actually true, I regretted the arguments I would get into my Bible Belt classmates — because I wanted to admit to them that I found the Book of Mormon just as dubious as they did. But I did not and could not, because they were attacking my team, so I would present my team’s best counter-arguments even if I didn’t accept them.

For most of my childhood, I didn’t realize that I didn’t have a testimony. After all, I would often bear a testimony (as I said before, I had good behavior, and bearing testimony was just one good thing that Mormons do). I had no qualms about lying, because for the longest time, I never consciously considered my performance to be a lie.

But it was my senior year, when I started taking a mission seriously that I began to think more seriously about why other young men — who I knew to not be the best in terms of their behavior — were so excited about repenting of whatever follies they had committed in their teenage years. I thought more seriously about why all the other young men were so excited to go on missions.

At the time, I reasoned that I had lived such a comfortable life that I needed to be shocked out of security. And so, as I wrote in my first Mormon Matters blog post (which would have just been a couple years after the experience):

I remember…it was around Easter a few years ago…it had to be before Easter, because I remember Easter was the day of my epiphany. Anyway, some time before Easter a few years ago, my father had been my young men’s adviser, and I remember asking him about how people get testimonies. I remember arguing something to the effect that I couldn’t have a testimony being raised in such comfort. I’d need to be subjected to all of the worst things in the world and then be forcibly humbled. It was pretty deep, I thought. My father didn’t agree. He said something about how Christ suffered for us so that we didn’t necessarily have to suffer all that stuff if we’d follow by faith. Why stick your finger into an electrical socket when you can just accept by faith that it’s not a good idea? Sure, the former will give you a physical experience that you won’t soon forget…but it could destroy you first.

Still, I thought I needed some thing that would shake my foundation so hard that it forced me to need Christ.

Then came Easter. I don’t think there was anything in any particular lessons about it (so I guess this is the point where I’m supposed to say the Lord has great sense of timing for personal revelation — yeah, right), but I came to realize that all a mission was is a controlled way for people to reach the humble rock bottoms of their lives.

…

When I read about missionary experiences, they don’t sound particularly enjoyable. Or rather, the enjoyable ones are rare. But it seems that most missionaries either don’t focus on the unenjoyable aspects, or when they do, they miss the point. However, I was looking for a fiery field to walk in, and a white (hot) field was ready to harvest.

Back then, I thought that even though I’d hate the experience and I’d hate myself for it, in the end, I’d have a thicker testimony. So, it was with that that I had that kind of LDS-ism…if you can only desire to believe, after all…

So, I have a period of time in my journal where I tell myself that I must tell the Bishop, my father, etc., to make me go on a mission no matter what. That I cannot be allowed to back out of this.

…As you can see, I haven’t gone on my mission, and even though I have a few years, I don’t see it in my future. In the end, I have to accept that even though I recognize such an experience would change me, I would hate such a change. Perhaps it’s pride or whatever, but I don’t want to come to look at my life as something I despise. Yet that’s what I feel the mission experience, and a full-out commitment to the church would bring.

My father didn’t force me to go on a mission no matter what. As I alluded to gently, he thought the idea of the mission as a crucible was dumb as heck. This later led to my lack of faith crisis, where I had to get used to the idea that there were people who sincerely believed in Mormonism, and did not just perform testimony, as I did.

…but what if he had?

If I had been abandoned in a campsite hundreds of miles from home, I doubt I would have had the independence not to give in to my parents’ demands and wishes. I would do whatever it would take to get back into their good graces (which, in Alabbas’s case obviously included a mission.)

What strikes me is that even though many of the commenters to my article (as well as other people I’ve discussed this with) have emphasized that a mission should not be a crucible experience, and that a mission is for the converted, not as place to be converted…I cannot say for sure that it would not have forged a testimony in me. (And yet, I also cannot say for sure that it would not have been a traumatic experience, or led me down a road of future traumatic experiences. If I could be pressured into a mission, then what? A mixed-orientation marriage?)

Nevertheless, to the extent that Kaydin’s family cares about forging testimonies in their children or seeing their children live a normative Mormon life regardless of how it might affect those children (and why wouldn’t they? I can’t even say it’s a bad thing for them to want that), I’m not so entirely sure that I can unreservedly criticize them.

What strikes me is that — even though I am extremely confident about the immutability of certain traits (such as sexual orientation), which makes efforts to change them almost always disastrous or traumatic…I cannot quite say the same thing about one’s theological beliefs. The present (and past) non-believer me feels like a mission experience would feel as immensely fraudulent as a mixed orientation marriage would, but even past me recognizes that difficult experiences can create profound changes in an individual, and perhaps to survive, I would have figured a way to make Mormon belief work for me?

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Published by Andrew S.

A tax accounting graduate of Texas A&M. An epeeist. A cultural, nonbelieving Mormon. Some kind of existentialist or absurdist. A speaker and presenter and writer.
I am Andrew S.
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I do believe that a testimony can be forged in a crucible, but I also believe that a testimony can be forged in less extreme ways as well. I wouldn’t venture as to what would have happened to your life if your parents had done a similar thing to you, but I’m not even particularly progressive and I’m not inspired by the story at all. In fact, it bothers me a great deal. Even if it happened to be the right thing for Elder Alabbas, I certainly don’t think it would have general application and probably shouldn’t be shared.

I believe that as children grow, compulsion by parents ought to drop off. Personally, I would have reacted very badly if my parents tried to compel me in spiritual matters when I was a teen. I’m not so opposed to forcing them to attend seminary or mutual, but forcing them to attend the temple, bless the sacrament, or serve a mission is mockery of sacred things.

I believe that a fundamental part of a testimony is choice. I just don’t believe God gives very many witnesses of the Spirit that cannot be denied. If he did, a lot of us would be under heavy condemnation. I believe He gives us evidence that we get to choose whether to believe, and as we exercise our faith in that evidence, He eventually gives us more. Exercising faith is all about choice.

I’ll concede that people are more likely to choose to turn to God when they’re desperate, and sometimes God will respond to them in ways that will affect the rest of their lives. I think missions often do that. But I also think one can genuinely turn to God without being desperate and have the same results.

I largely agree with Martin. While I agree with you that there’s something to a “crucible” moment for people, it doesn’t always happen that way. Life is long. People have different moments in life when they are drawn toward or away from belief. I also disagree that a crucible experience is the purpose of a mission. Yes, missions can be hard at times (and boring at times and fun at times and exciting at times). I don’t think a mission is necessary to become your best self or to challenge your entire belief system or identity (although it can do this), but I do think it’s a unique experience that can change your perspective on life–that doesn’t have to be a crucible experience. It can just be like the kids standing on their desks in Dead Poets’ Society. For me, it was mostly a positive experience that has changed the way I view my life, other people, and the world.

If my parents had abandoned me in a canyon for telling them I didn’t want to comply with their wishes, that would have been the end of our relationship. If that had happened at 18 or 19 years old, I would never speak to them again. I would have become homeless rather than go back. I would have prostituted myself rather than trust them again. I’m absolutely serious. To me, that would have been a breach of trust I would never forgive. It would have probably ruined my life, but if it didn’t (he had grandparents, after all) the relationship with them would still have been over, even if I did have some kind of perfunctory acknowledgement that they existed after that.

Until I read this, I had the same conclusions you did in writing it. But it made me remember people who were really transformed in positive ways by going on missions (the guy I was in the mission home with, who played Alma in the Hill Cumorah Pageant, did not know who Alma was when he left on a mission for example, but really transformed).

“I cannot say for sure that it would not have forged a testimony in me.”

Now I’m wondering.

On the other hand, LDS Living has come out and stated that the cached version was an editing error that went live and that they rewrote the story as part of transitioning it away from a horrendously bad idea by the parents to a story about the unconditional love of the grandparents for that reason.

While LDSLiving’s initial publication looked more like a failure to edit than an editing error, the explanation given by the named LDSLiving editor was that the story was not inspirational and “was never meant to be shared or published,” that she had not yet edited and had unintentionally hit “undraft” before hitting “save”. Given the times I have seen unintentional email replies to “all,” I choose to believe that is likely. The first victim here was Elder Alabbas. He seems to have recovered. The publication and internet discussion, however, could victimize him again and could make it harder for the parents to learn from what I believe to have been their reported mistakes. If so, then they have also been victimized in a sense, however unintentionally.

Someone can correct me if I’m wrong, but my impression isn’t that LDS Living wasn’t the first or only site with this story (this article here does not link to LDS Living’s article.) Just because LDS Living was probably the most popular place for people to hear this story does not mean that LDS Living’s editorial policies are authoritative regarding this story. That is to say, LDSLiving’s editorial explanations apply to LDSLiving.

But really, really, I’m not too interested in debating whether what the parents did or what the grandparents did are inspirational or who is the victim or who is not the victim.

I’m more interested in understanding how and why Mormonism affected all of the parties above — Elder Alabbas, Alabbas’s parents, and his grandparents to taking such very different approaches here.

Like, it’s very clear that Mormonism prioritizes and privileges mission work. To me, if someone asked me who has a more typically Mormon response to mission work: my parents or Alabbas’ parents, I would easily say Alabbas’s parents. Even though I am very fortunate my parents did not have that sort of expectations, I cannot honestly say that that is a particularly orthodox Mormon POV.

Since a parent knows his or her children better than anyone else, it is generally best to leave child-rearing decisions to parents. What might break one child might be needed medicine to another child. Of course, any society will impose limits on parents through legislation or opprobrium. In this story, it seems like everyone is happy and well, so that’s good!

The story was posted here http://jasonfwright.com/column/family-leaves-son-at-bryce-canyon-one-day-before-his-mission-should-have-begun.html on the same day it was posted at LDSLiving. I think they were originally the same write-up. It has now been taken down. I cannot tell which posting was first. It seemed that Jason Wright was the author; but I cannot confirm that. As to which parental reaction was more typical of Mormon parents — Andrew’s or Elder Alabbas’ — to my observation of some decades, neither was typical and the same parental behaviors also occur among non-Mormons. The emotional reaction of Elder Alabbas’ parents may be more typical of committed Mormons, Baptists, Evangelicals, Catholics and others, but the abandonment at a campsite is an extreme not typical of parents in any of those groups. Even disowning a child, while more common, does not seem to be typical.

Ji, I think everyone here is grateful that all involved seem happy and good. The core issue is why would an LDS family feel comfortable driving away from their 18-yr-old son upon him announcing that he would not be going on a mission. I mean, my family has a story of my dad leaving my older siblings by the side of the rode when they wouldn’t stop fighting in the car (late 1970s), but he eventually swung around and picked them up about 30 minutes later. We don’t ever tout that as a good parenting decision in our family, even though it’s a funny story.

I know people will send their kids to programs out in the wilderness to shock them out of alcohol or drug dependence. But abandoning your (worthy enough to serve a mission) kid in the middle of the wilderness to shock him out of the tragic decision to forego a mission seems… extreme. The reaction of the grandfather makes *much* more sense to me – talking, listening, and agreeing to a compromise that make both happy.

Difficult to discern what events actually took place here, but if this happened, I think the parents need all the opprobium they can get, given the culture that produced them must have significantly influenced their abusive and potentially life threatening behaviour. One wonders what they might do in private if these are the lengths they will go to to ensure their child fulfills their own needs. If I were a social worker I would be looking at whether they could be trusted with care of their own children moving forward and at very least making sure a family therapy plan was in place and attended with appropriate sanctions were it not..
How is it possible for testimony to grow within in such an Old Testament emotional environment? I appreciate that this is not representative of many church households, but the idea that anyone could think of justifying these acts bespeaks a mindset that I have frequently come across , particularly among those in authority.

I think we should be quick to disidentify from such unrighteous dominion and invoke Joseph Smith’s dictum that we ‘teach correct principles and let them govern themselves’.

My son didn’t serve a mission, it broke my heart but free agency trumps my need to have compliant children. My job now is to show him that a parent’s love is constant and that the gospel feeds and builds such commitment and loyalty to his temporal and spiritual welfare. I have my work cut out as it requires me to constantly struggle to overcome ‘the natural woman’. I really, really hope he never sees the story cited above, as such behaviours feed the narrative that many of our educated and compassionate kids have around the church’s intolerance and oppression.

Actually…sometimes I wonder if some parents get their ideas from what worked in the bible as they try to be the best parents.

Did they think maybe that was why Jesus went to the wilderness to think about things? I mean, it wasn’t like they were making their son fast 40 days…so it wasn’t that bad, right? 😀

At the end of the day, you try things as a parent out of love. If it works out…great. If it doesn’t, there are other opportunities.

Same goes for our testimonies.

The crucible moments eventually find all of us in life. Parents don’t need to force it. Just prepare for it and try to protect the kids. And if you screw up, you repent and keep trying.

You can go on a mission, or not go. Either way…you will be in a location where opportunities to learn crop up.
You can serve intensely on a mission or goof around a bit. You can just learn different things based on where you put yourself.
You can finish a mission or come home early. You can learn how to deal with the fear of others’ judgement vs your own happiness.
You can get married soon after a mission or wait. Each path leads to different choices down those paths. No path is final.

Life provides enough opportunity to learn and develop character, regardless of choices for us in the moment. Parents don’t need to force the issue and strand them in the desert so they have their “crucible” moment. Life will do it for them if they let things take their course. Just prepare the kids to be healthy adults and support them as they go.

So much judgementalism here against the parents — and that from an audience that usually decries judgementalism. It is indeed hard to be a Latter-day Saint, with everyone judging a parent’s every decision.

I am grateful for my parents model of teaching correct principles and letting me govern my own mission planning. I had such a great first year college experience academically, I considered doing one more year to continue that before going on a mission. My parents expressed support if that was what I wanted to do. I never planned not to go, but realized then and looking back now that putting it off that extra year could make the option of not going altogether a much stronger possibility. So, I did what I had been taught to do–study the scriptures and prayed about it and arrived at my own answer–which was the best solution. I think if my parents had dropped me off at Bryce, I would have further solidified a “not-going” decision in defiance. I can see a parent leading their child to go on a ‘quest’ in the wilderness to allow them thinking time, but an abandonment tactic does not seem appropriate–and I think even Ji would have to be concerned about parents abandoning their children without resources to safely navigate a situation.

My son did not serve a mission. If I had left him in a campsite, he had such great camping and wilderness survival skills he might have just stayed there and enjoyed himself for several months and then figured out how to go do what he wanted to do. College probably. He might not have even been angry at me, considering it a sort of prickly favor.

Many years ago I took a group of scouts out to Philmont in New Mexico including my son, the crew leader and oldest scout, then about age 16. They were a wonderful crew and it was everything Philmont was meant to be because we prepared extensively. The last day we had to get up at 4:00 am to catch the bus back to Denver and make flight connections. They missed the bus by a few minutes and therefore our plane. At that point they were in a similar predicament as this reluctant missionary.

The other adult leader, (retired) and I (didn’t like my job) decided in the true spirit of boy leadership, that we were not going to outright abandon them but we were not going to help them figure out what to do at all. Nothing. Not one word and not one cent. They came up with a plan to hitch hike and then take the greyhound bus home. They had phones and some were able to access funds which they shared. At one point they considered that they could work at local ranches to earn money, or sell their expensive camping gear. We calmed frantic parents who called with assertions of what a wonderful life lesson they were learning. It took us another week, almost, to travel the 2000 miles back home. It is difficult to say which part of the trip was more formative, the planned backpacking or the unplanned road trip. My boss could see the value of what we had done and forgave me for the “emergency leave.”

The problem I have with this story of the reluctant missionary is that we raise children under such social control and dependency that leaving them in a campsite at age 18 is a strong enough threat to force them into 2 years of unpleasantness (if they don’t catch the spirit of mission work). Why doesn’t this young man have what it would take to simply go do what he wants to do? To hell with his controlling parents. Be a man.

A recent news article describes a plane crash in Utah. I heard at church that one of the 2 couples who died left 4 teenage children behind. A near missionary age young man now has the responsibility to raise 3 younger siblings. I suppose he has extended family and ward support and government support. But what if he didn’t? Does he have the grit to take on that responsibility? He would not be the first. He is in a far worse predicament than our reluctant missionary and perhaps with less help or rescue around. I would like to see our youth raised such that they could face and overcome many of the great obstacles life may throw in their path.

As for a mission being a crucible, for me it was a picnic- compared to college, military service and decades of demanding work for jackass bosses. Your mileage may vary.

Great story, Mike. This amused me: “2 years of unpleasantness (if they don’t catch the spirit of mission work)” because for some it is 2 years of unpleasantness even if they do catch the spirit of mission work!